#* NECROPOLIS / verse .

[relentlessgrief]

DA verse Connor also has a fear of horses like his canonical D&D counterpart, except this one is a phobia with no explanation.

Can fear demons have fear? Idk, but they can now. Fuck it.

[fadewalking]

Speaking of Post-Game, I guess I better think about detailing a verse of what comes After for him.

There will be at least two

The Good Ending and The Bad Ending verses.

[thelittlestspider]

i'm now reminded of one of the og concepts of the ocv was that people in power basically bought off superheroes, killed the vigilantes that actually tried to help people by going against them, and then used them to make clones to use for their own personal gain/entertainment.

[someotherdog]

@thewolfruns sent: ◊ emmylou and miguel

of course he wasn't around. miguel, when he wasn't hanging out with emmylou and enduring her constant chatter, seemed to evaporate into thin air. she guessed he was somewhere with bill, ugh, but no matter. searching for a piece of paper, she found a sticky note on the front lobby desk and a flamingo casino-branded pen:

MIGUEL! thank you for helping me get my shampoo back. you're incredibly sweet even tho you don't want people to know it. i have a gift for you, so come down to the lobby when you get this!! thanks! ♡ em.

perfect! she left the note on his sleeping bag, then headed down to the casino floor. she hoped he liked james patterson books.

[profoundlyfaded]

One of my favourite companion relationships in DATV has to be Neve and Emmrich. It starts out cautiously- she’s heard terrible stuff about Nevarran Necromancers, he (and everyone else) has heard terrible things about Tevinter Mages. So, they’re feeling each other out, and the you get hit with this exchange -

We know that the companions are continuing their lives around the events they’re face (which is great) but I just love the idea of Neve pacing her room…. Pondering on how to solve this murder when she remembers that she has a death mage living across the courtyard and he’s probably well versed in this stuff.

And then across the game through their dialogue we discover that Emmrich has turned detective with the detective to such a degree he makes the papers as a ‘sinister foreign necromancer’ -

And I just love this idea post-game that Neve probably teams up with Emmrich for unsolved murders. Not to mention, everyone being terrified when she contacts her ‘sinister foreign necromancer’ for a consult - I just have this idea now that evil blood mages are terrified of the idea only to have Emmrich and Manfred rock up to their door.

Honestly, I actually think that Emmrich wouldn’t return to the Necropolis straight away - regardless of if he’s romanced or not, I think he’d stay out in the world a bit longer, see more of it, learn new things before he returned.

[someotherdog]

“gosh, you sure didn’t grow up in the south!” emmylou laughed, nose wrinkling. a lifelong waitress in a tourist town, she had briefly met people from all walks of life and all sorts of hometowns, sometimes from places like germany or thailand. miguel being unfamiliar with the crushes of nineties teen girls in coastal mississippi was not unexpected, but she still mourned the fact that she had few fellow southerners at the flamingo. though miguel tolerated—and had seemingly grown to enjoy her company—he would never truly understand her, just like she wouldn’t be able to understand what growing up had been like for him (especially because he only gave her vague glimpses into his past!). “that’s the dread pirate roberts to you, honeybee! also known as westley, the dreamiest man to ever exist. i guess you haven’t watched it recently then.” she frowned suddenly at the realization that they wouldn’t ever be able to watch the princess bride, or any movie, ever again.

despite his friendship with the gregarious (she thought that description was kinder than loud) bill, emmy could tell, or rather soon figured out, that miguel was a creature of solitude. she didn’t understand how someone that clearly enjoyed his own company and rarely anyone else’s could survive in a gang, and from bill’s constant stories, a violent and vicious gang such as the los lobos locos. he seemed to shy away from the limelight, and from what emmylou could tell, bill was all too pleased to have it focused on himself instead. even the suggestion of a talent show made miguel’s face go pale, but she assumed bill would be excited to show off. 

“my goodness, i’m not holdin’ you at gunpoint, am i?” emmylou smiled and placed a reassuring hand on miguel’s bicep. “you don’t have to perform if you don’t want to, i just need help plannin’ it. we could make a banner or somethin’, maybe clear out the showroom so we can use the stage and have seats ready for use. i think i saw a poster for some puppet show or some such? who wants to come to vegas just to go see a man play with puppets…” she shook her head, trying to get back on track. “i don’t know, it might help boost morale or somethin’. we just walk around here like zombies—excuse the pun—and gettin’ into petty arguments and such. we need somethin' to look forward to!” she turned narrowed eyes onto miguel. “you sure you don’t have some hidden talent for the show?”

"girls really liked garth brooks?" he scoffed incredulously, a rare break in his mask. his sisters seemed to go from crush to crush as easily as breathing at that age, but usually they were into guys like tupac or freddie prinze jr. compared to them garth brooks seemed so corny. and old. maybe that was just a cowboy thing. if that was insulting to her, he wasn't sure, so he tacked on, "the princess bride guy?" and didn't feel the need to offer that he'd liked him in saw, even if the sequels to those movies sucked.

it was maybe the first time that miguel had really offered emmylou any small hint into the fact that he might be attracted to anyone. historically, the only times he'd been able to meet anyone, he'd been so drunk that he'd just sort of been surprised to discover he could talk to someone or it didn't matter either way. or bill pushed whatever friend of his latest conquest onto him. or he'd be sober and his sisters would try and set him up only for the dates to not really go well, past an awkward dinner date, and for whichever sister whose natural turn it was to do their best to protect his feelings. usually, though, the disappointment was an affectation. he really just wasn't interested in making room for anyone else in his life. and nobody really stuck around long enough to bother seeing what he was like a few months in outside of his family and bill. plenty of women were comfortable dating a criminal, but dating someone who was emotionally unavailable and, on the surface, disinterested became unappealing fast.

he didn't reply to her, but offered a small smile. subtle enough that, probably, most folks wouldn't have noticed. bill's foil in everyway, his expressions were small, measured, and he often was misconstrued for not paying attention at all. although, maybe that was true too. and then, maybe a deeper emotion took over. one that was much less subtle. fear. "a talent show?" he coughed, not able to make eye contact with her as his mind caught up. "i don't--" what could he even contribute? "i'm not exactly--" flashbacks to horrible friday night childhood talent shows in his living room with his sisters as tlc or with all four of them as spice girls. why would emmy want his help? "i can help you move things around and set up, but i don't know if you really want me to be involved in the planning." or performing, the thought made his stomach flip and he lost the spot in his book that his finger had been holding.

[thievinghippo]

Have a ficlet on your Wednesday night! Decided I wanted to write my own version of the moment Sonnet is rescued from the Fade

#

They almost dislocate her shoulder, pulling her out of the Fade.

She ends up sitting back on her knees, fingers splayed against the stone. Rook looks around wildly, not quite believing what she’s seeing. They’re at the ritual site, a mirror from where she was in the Fade just moments ago. But the sun is shining. Leaves are rustling. Birds are singing.

The world looks exactly as she remembers, but everything’s changed.

The pain in her shoulder is extraordinary. All her friends are talking at once, asking questions and it’s just too much. It’s too much. Varric is dead. Harding is dead. Neve is as good as.

Everything is just too much.

And her shoulder is on fire. She holds out her left hand. “Give me a health potion.” Not the words of a tender reunion, but she is in too much pain to care.

The talking stops. Rook looks at everyone and seeing the gaps of where her friends should be chips away at her very soul. And then there’s Emmrich, kneeling in front of her, his glamour on for some reason when she just wants to see his face.

“Give me a potion. Please.”

It’s Lucanis who hands her the vial, unstoppered. “Thank you,” Rook whispers. She downs the vial in one gulp, hating the taste. Truly, health potions are one of the most hideous creations known to man.

Rook stands, suddenly unbalanced. Is gravity different in the Fade? Is the air pressure? She considers herself a scholar. Why didn’t she take notes?

There’s only one thing she can do. Only one thing that makes sense. Rook holds up her hands, asking for space—why won’t they give her space, can’t they see she needs air?—and walks to the edge of the platform.

She places a hand on one of the statues for balance, to help simply keep her upright. Her shoulder is numb at this point, and she’ll have to deal with it soon, but not right now.

Now? She has to let out all the fire and tension and fear inside or it will boil over and she will be no use to anyone.

So Rook throws back her head and screams. She screams for all she’s lost. All her friends have lost. All the world has lost. And now that she’s screaming, she may never stop.

She screams until her stomach hurts, until her hands are on her knees, and she’s having trouble remembering to breath. Which leads her to start to scream some more.

A chill at her back interrupts her. Rook is trying so hard not to cry, not when her friends need her to be a leader and she doesn’t even know what day of the week it is. Or how long she’s been gone. She doesn’t know if the gods have won and they’ve lost or if there’s even any hope left in the world.

(Please let there be a little hope left in the world.)

Emmrich’s arms surround her, pulling her close so that her back is flush against his chest. Rook stops screaming.

Because he is here. Because she loves him and he loves her. Because when there is love, there is hope.

She takes a breath. One with purpose. Even if the gods have already won, there is hope.

He starts chanting. Softly. Just loud enough for her alone to hear the words.

Rook closes her eyes as she grasps his hands, grateful she feels his wraps, knowing he must have taken off his glamour. The familiar words wash over her. The Chant of a Dusk Resplendent. Her absolute favorite of all the chants of the Grand Necropolis.

The one chant that gives her peace, no matter how troubled she is. The one chant that reminds her that even though the sun will set, it will rise once again. No matter how bleak things look, they will make it through the night.

She starts to chant along with him, their voices a soft chorus mingling together. The slow rhythm of the chant settles the wild beating of her heart. It is a long chant, longer even than the Chant of the Starless Dawn, but one verse will be enough.

One verse is all she needs to soothe her soul.

The verse ends and Rook closes her eyes, keeping her grip strong on Emmrich’s hands, the bones underneath the wraps holding on just as hard.

“How long?”

Time can sometimes move differently in the Fade. Unlike the Lighthouse, which has protective wards and barriers to regulate time, keep it the same as the outside world, the raw Fade…

What was only hours for her might be—

“Three weeks.” His voice is broken glass.

The Mourn Watcher scholar she is wants to analyze that. She’s not hungry or thirsty or needs to relieve herself. Perhaps one day, assuming the world is not in ruins, she will write down her thoughts. Maybe even present a proper paper. It’s been too long since she’s been published.

“Three weeks,” she repeats dully. “It felt like only hours.”

“You’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

Is that all that matters? She hasn’t forgotten their argument and she can’t imagine that her imprisonment in the Fade quelled his fears. Maker, she promised they would talk and then…

“Are we alright, Emmrich?” Rook whispers.

Emmrich places his hands on her shoulders and turns her around, so they’re facing each other. Rook takes a quick peek and sees the rest of the team walking back to the Eluvian. For now, the two of them are alone.

She’s so glad to see his face, the bright green glow from his eyes are a comfort now. There have been times when she’s woken up in the middle of the night, those precious nights he stays in with her instead of reading or scouring the Fade, and she sees the glow from his eyes, and a gentle stillness will settle over her. Somehow, she always manages to fall back asleep more quickly when he’s near.

His hands still on her shoulders, Emmrich leans forward, but instead of the kiss on the lips she expects, he presses his mouth against her forehead and shares his essence.

There is nothing sexual in what he shares, which is what she’s used to from his kisses. The overriding feeling shared is relief. But underneath? There is comfort. Exhaustion. And when Rook closes her eyes, she feels safe.

Even if her mind tries to convince her otherwise, here in Emmrich’s arms? She is safe. And the two of them? Discussions are needed, true. But she has no doubt that they will figure everything out.

Rook raises her chin and kisses him. Properly. His desire quickly flows through her, even though they both know this is not the time. A little reminder never hurts, though.

“Let us go back to the Lighthouse,” Emmrich says, taking her hand and bringing it to his mouth. The briefest of kisses. “There we can inform you of all that transpired while you were locked away.”

“Alright. I probably need some food, too.” She takes a step towards the stone stairs. Rook feels fortified in a way she can’t explain. Ready for whatever is ahead of them.

“And Rook?”

She turns back towards him, wondering what else there is to say. “Emmrich?”

“The answer to your question is yes. I tried desperately to temper my hopes, but here you are, standing in front of me.” He takes her hand. “I will never again ask you to be anything other than who you are. This I vow.”

Rook gives Emmrich one more kiss, grateful that he understands at last. She will never hold back in a fight. Ever. Not when there is a world to save.

Then she squeezes his hand, and together, they walk towards the battles ahead.

[himluv]

Just a Taste

Chapter 28(?!?!) of Say My Name (Say it Twice) is here! Read it below or over on AO3!

Now that he and Rook are together, Lucanis decides he might just try acting on some of these new feelings he's been struggling with late at night.

There was no place that Rook could go that Lucanis would not follow, but the Necropolis put a stutter in his step every time. Even without Spite, he didn’t think he’d be comfortable in the dank, dusty, cavernous place. It reeked of incense and funeral bouquets, and the backs of his eyeballs itched furiously at the rampant magic that kept the crypts intact. 

It was a place that vaunted death, and while Lucanis was well-versed in the causes, he did not like to dwell on questions of what came after. 

He was not a religious man. He firmly believed you only get one life that could so easily be curtailed, so it was best to live well. The Necropolis suggested there could be more to life and death, and Lucanis had no interest in exploring those possibilities for himself. 

While the Necropolis made him uncomfortable, it made Spite irritable. Even more so than usual. The demon did not play well with other spirits, especially ones as benign and courteous as those in the desiccated halls of the Necropolis. 

So, they were both quiet and discomfited as they followed Rook and Emmrich. Rook seemed, if not entirely at ease in the crypts, at least curious about the magic required to maintain them. She and Emmrich spoke in hushed, reverent tones that Lucanis only heard part of. 

“I didn’t expect it, but Strife and I are getting along quite well,” Emmrich said. 

Spite growled at the mention of the elder Veil Jumper, but if Emmrich heard it, he chose to ignore it. And Spite wasn’t the only one troubled by mention of Strife. 

The Professor might be oblivious to it, but to Lucanis, Rook’s discomfort with the conversation was clear. Her posture was rigid, shoulders back and head high, despite the downward tilt of her chin. 

“But where to go with him…” Emmrich continued. 

Asking Rook for advice about Strife was reasonable, but Emmrich didn’t know about their recent fight. And Lucanis could tell that she would rather not speak about her mentor at the moment. 

“Does he like coffee?” Lucanis asked. He hadn’t meant to, but he’d needed to alleviate Rook’s unease. He winced. “Or... knives?”

There was a beat of silence as Emmrich and Rook both turned to look at him. Emmrich’s brow was furrowed as he considered it, but Rook could barely bite back her grin. 

Mierda, what was he thinking? He knew nothing of Strife and even less of romance. He should not be giving advice to Emmrich of all people. The man was stylish and confident, and doubtless had much more experience than Lucanis. 

“Sorry, Emmrich,” he said. “Rook might be better at this.”

She gave him a chastising look, one he knew meant he’d hear just what she thought of that later. And while she would never convince him that he was good at flirting, he looked forward to her efforts to do so. 

As the mages fell back into discussion of where Emmrich should take his date, Lucanis let them lead the way through the dusty halls, content to watch their backs. Besides, he very much enjoyed the view of Rook’s hips when she jogged ahead of him. A view it was getting harder and harder for him to ignore.

Want. Rook! Spite said.

Lucanis shot him an ugly look. He did not need the demon’s needling now, not with Emmrich close enough to hear. 

Spite’s grin widened. Want to watch. To touch. To TASTE!

“Enough,” he hissed at the demon. 

“Everything all right back there?” Rook asked. She glanced over her shoulder at him, a small smile on her lips. 

“Fine,” he said. 

Rook wants too! Spite glared at him. Would make. Rook. Happy!

Lucanis rolled his eyes. The last thing he needed was his demon encouraging his more… salacious thoughts. They were out of control as it was. Luckily, Spite got distracted with chasing a wisp, and Lucanis was able to follow after Rook (and her lovely, wide hips) in peace. 

A few days later, he and Rook were sitting in the armchairs in the dining hall, enjoying a rare cup of morning coffee. She was going to Arlathan with Davrin and Assan later that afternoon, and she was always jittery before a trip home. Partly out of excitement – she truly loved the forest – but also because she was bound to see Strife. 

So, in an effort to ease her nerves, Lucanis had offered a light breakfast and coffee. Few of their colleagues were fond of mornings, so they had the dining hall to themselves. The meal, coffee, and easy conversation seemed to be working. Rook’s eyes were clear and her smile bright as she sat and chatted with him. They were discussing favorite books, and while their mutual love of reading was exciting, they were learning that they had very little overlap in their reading history. 

She shook her head. “It’s been so long since I had time to a read a book,” she said. 

He nodded. “Bellara has made it her mission to get me caught up on all I’ve missed this past year.” He said it so casually, without any consideration, that for a heartbeat he didn’t understand why Rook’s smile melted into a frown. 

“Oh, Lucanis–”

He raised a hand. “It’s fine, Embria,” he said. It was more than fine, actually. For the first time since his escape, he hadn’t thought of the Ossuary when he alluded to the time he’d lost there. There had been no water thundering in his ears, no bands of ice cinching his chest tight. There’d merely been the facts of the matter: he’d missed a year’s worth of publications. 

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he added when he noticed the concern in her eyes.

“You didn’t,” she said. She took a deep breath and looked down into her coffee cup, suddenly timid. “I don’t want you to think you can’t talk to me about it.”

Something in his chest twinged, and he had to look away. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said. The bitterness in his voice surprised him. It’d only been a few short months since Rook had saved him, but he was tired of thinking about and talking around his imprisonment. 

Her hand was warm on his forearm, her thumb rubbing soothing circles into his skin. “But, if you need to,” she said. 

Lucanis gave her a tiny, half-smile. “I know,” he said. “But, you’ve already seen it.”

Her look was skeptical, as if she didn’t fully believe him. Which… was fair. She’d seen his thoughts, his fears and insecurities. She had not seen the actual torment, the memories that replayed in his dreams on the bad nights. If he could help it, she never would.

“Embria,” he said. “You know my thoughts. I’m all right.” He squeezed her hand where it rested on his arm. It still amazed him, how she touched him so easily, and it amazed him even more how much he looked forward to her touch. 

She squeezed his arm, then released him. “Okay.”

The dining hall door opened and Emmrich entered the room. He hummed a little tune and had a definite jaunt to his step. And, most tellingly, his clothes were every so slightly rumpled. It was clear that the mage had only just arrived back at the Lighthouse.

Lucanis smiled. “Emmrich,” he said. “How did it go?” 

The professor grinned. “Very well, thank you!”

Lucanis glanced at Embria fondly. “I knew Rook would give you good advice.”

She snorted at that and rolled her eyes. “I told him to go look at bugs.”

He frowned. “Bugs?”

She shrugged. “There’s a cave where the bugs glow like veilfire.”

He blinked at her. That sounded… beautiful. Possibly gross, but still beautiful.

“Actually,” Emmrich said, his smile sharpening and a hand on one hip. “As it turns out, Strife does indeed collect knives. So, your suggestion was excellent as well, Lucanis.”

“Really?” He stared at the mage and pointedly ignored Rook’s grin in his peripheral vision. “That…” he shook his head. “Has never worked for me.” He sat forward, his own smile widening. “I can get you the name of my blacksmith.”

“That would be greatly appreciated,” Emmrich said. 

Embria downed the last of her coffee and stood. “At least that means Strife should be in a good mood today.”

Emmrich’s mustache lifted with a wry smile. “I daresay he will be.”

Rook made a disgusted noise, her nose crinkling adorably. 

Lucanis looked between them for a moment, sure he was missing something. Why would Strife’s good mood be cause for disgust–

“Mierda,” he said, heat rising to his cheeks as he understood just what the mages were talking around. Good for Emmrich, he supposed, but that was not information Lucanis needed, nor wanted. First Taash and Harding, now Emmrich? And if the lingering looks between Neve and Davrin meant what he thought they might…

Was everyone in the Lighthouse having sex?

Well, everyone but him and Rook. And maybe Bellara, though he’d seen her blush whenever she wrote in her notebook. Maker only knew what she was writing about. 

Jealous? Spite whispered at his ear. 

No, and he needed to curtail this train of thought – Emmrich could hear Spite. 

The demon sniffed the air and grinned. Ahhhhhhh. Nervous! Afraid. To want!

“Lucanis,” Emmrich said, interrupting the demon. “Were you really spurned once for gifting someone a knife?”

Rook looked at Lucanis, her eyebrows high with surprise. 

He shrugged. “Not ‘spurned’ so much as ignored.” He shook his head. “I just… don’t have Illario’s gift for flirting.”

Rook curled her lip at his comparison to his cousin. He knew she disagreed with him, but she was hardly a neutral party. And it was an objective fact that Illario was far more charming than he was. 

“Well,” Emmrich said. “We all approach things in our own way.” The older man’s frown was gentle. Patient. “Who was it, if I might ask? The recipient of your gift.”

Lucanis shifted in his seat. “A Crow from another House.”

Rook gave him a curious, amused look. 

“It was a long time ago,” he added. 

“I’m surprised that the gift wasn’t better received, then,” Emmrich said. He sounded almost miffed on Lucanis’s behalf, which was nice, but completely unnecessary. Whatever fledgling feelings he’d carried for Viago had long since faded. 

“You’ve met him,” he said. “He’s very… particular.”

Rook’s gaze burned into him, and he knew she had at least a dozen questions she wanted to ask. Lucanis focused on his coffee while she waited for Emmrich’s tea to steep. Once he left, she refilled their cups with the last of the coffee. 

“So,” she said, handing him his cup as she returned to her seat. “A very particular Crow from another House.”

“Yes.”

Her smile only widened at his terse reply. “This wouldn’t happen to be a certain Fifth Talon, would it?”

He rolled his eyes. “It was a long time ago, Rook.” 

Her smile softened as she reached for his hand. “I think it’s sweet,” she said. 

Sweet. He wondered, would she still think him sweet if she knew how he thought of her, late at night? How he imagined her touch, her taste, when the night drew long? How, when his dreams weren’t haunted by the Ossuary, they always featured her? 

She’d said she would leave initiating the more… sensuous aspects of their relationship to him. And while he knew he wasn’t ready for all that could entail, he couldn’t deny he very much wanted a taste. Just a little hint of her desire, to get him through the next aching night. 

Lucanis took her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles. A soft, chaste kiss they’d shared many times now. Then he turned her hand to press his next kiss to the heel of her palm. 

“Sweet,” he murmured, the word ghosting over her skin. He glanced over at her, saw the surprised heat in her eyes, and his own desire surged through him at the sight. His instincts screamed at him to look away, to hide this feeling from her.

But Lucanis didn’t want to hide anymore. Not from Rook. So, he held her gaze and allowed his own to go molten. 

“And if I don’t want to be sweet?” He asked, his voice low and controlled. He pressed another kiss to the inside of her wrist and hummed when he felt her pulse jump against his lips. 

She watched him as if stunned, her eyes dark and lips parted. She licked her lips and blinked. “What do you want?”

He hummed again and let their hands return to the table between them, still interlaced. He wasn’t entirely sure. He wanted to touch her, to explore her skin and see which spots made heat bloom in her cheeks and her breath hitch. But that wasn’t an activity for midmorning in the dining hall. Plus, she had an outing to prepare for, and Lucanis wanted to take his time with that particular experiment. 

He released Rook’s hand and moved to stand before her. She looked up at him, crystal grace eyes wide and wondering. Then he leaned forward, planting a hand on each arm of her chair, framing her between his arms, his body hovering over hers. Her breath hitched, her chest heaving beneath him, and Lucanis let a slow, pleased smile claim his lips. 

Slowly, he leaned closer to her. Rook lifted her face, her eyes fluttering closed, and for a breath he marveled at her like this. Flushed pink and just a little desperate. She was perfect. 

Rook. WANTS!

Yes, she most certainly did.

Lucanis leaned in and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Have fun with Davrin and Assan today,” he said at her ear. She shuddered, and then he pulled away from her with a mischievous grin as she let out a frustrated huff. For a moment he feared he’d done something wrong, perhaps had even upset her, but her frustration turned to an awed chuckle as she opened her eyes and saw his smile. 

“So,” she breathed. “Lucanis Dellamorte is a tease.”

His grin widened, and he ran a hand through his hair. “For you? Yes,” he said. “I think I might be.”

Her blush deepened and she bit her lip, looking up at him with big, pleading eyes. Another gorgeous image to lock away in his mind for later. Then his doubt wormed its way back to the surface. 

“Is that all right?”

“Yes.” She nodded emphatically. “That?” She continued, gesturing at him with one hand while the other brushed her hair back over one ear. “That was… very good.”

It was his turn to blush. He cleared his throat and tugged at his waistcoat. “Good,” he said. 

She stood, eyeing him with plenty of residual heat. “Will I see you in the music room after dinner?”

His heart thumped in his chest, and his throat felt dry. But he thought of his own desire to touch her mere moments ago and nodded. 

“Good,” she said. Then she stood up on her toes and pressed a quick, chaste kiss to his cheek. She grinned at him, and then headed out into the bright fade-light of the courtyard. 

Lucanis stood there for a long moment, his hand coming up to touch where her lips had met his skin. “Mierda,” he whispered, shaking his head. 

He was going to kiss her tonight, he decided. They’d both waited long enough. And with his mind made up, now he just needed a distraction to pass the time. He glanced around the dining room, and decided he’d start by cleaning the kitchen. And, when that was done, if he still had Rook’s lips on his mind, he’d go workout. 

Tonight. Just a handful of hours and he would finally know if this first kiss truly tasted like honey and lavender cream. He suspected it wouldn’t. Because, if he had to guess, it would be even sweeter. 

[uchidachi]

1 and 2 for the Rook asks game!! (I think you know but hi it’s Dissonant Verses)

Hiiiiiii ty for sending!!!

Does your Rook fall for their partner at first sight? If not, what moment made your Rook realize they're in love with them?

Ok I know I sent you this one also, but am now realizing that this is two totally different questions… i originally interpreted “fall for” meaning “have romantic feelings for” but that’s distinct from being in love… so accordingly I shall answer for both.

And I now realize that i don’t know the answer for either. Or, rather, Rhea doesn’t know the answer, therefore i don’t! 😂

Rhea realized she genuinely liked Taash and wasn’t just fun-flirting at the *exact moment* they pinned her up against a wall asked her which it was. Which was probably a while after she actually caught feelings, but i’m just proud of her that she at least figured it out at the last second & managed a coherent response.

(I’ve still not seen the “💔” option for that scene because I am a romantic sap, but one day I’ll choose it and then think up an angsty fic where Rook realizes her feelings for Taash only *after* turning them down. And then cry, probably)

For “when did Rhea realize she was in love with Taash?” I think this happened during the disastrous dinner at the lighthouse, when Shathann is like “you don’t deserve Taash” or whatever. Rhea’s first impulse was to respond with “well I love them, so there 😠” but luckily did not actually say that, nor did she try to fight Taash’s mom.

I feel like, taken together, these answers are painting a clear picture of “Internally, Rook is a much bigger disaster than she is externally, and that’s saying something”

When does the partner realize that they're in love with Rook?

Omg my last answer was so long i’m gonna try to be short with this one.

Taash realizes they love Rhea the seventeenth time they visit the Necropolis. Rook’s just going there to check in with Myrna and run some death-related errands, and asked Taash if they wanted to come along. And Taash realizes they genuinely want to go, because they don’t want to be anywhere else in the world than wherever Rook is.

[chantlight]

VERSE / THE VEILGUARD.

This will be Cassandra's default involvement in DA:TV. It hinges on a scenario where the Inquisition was disbanded after Trespasser and the Inquisitor in question would not be involved in the way canon presents. (Default Inquisitor is Alanari.) Cassandra as High Seeker is instead the one to unite the South. That having been said, I'm very open to compromise / alternatives where applicable!

THE LAST SEVEN YEARS.

*The canonical gap between Trespasser and DA:TV is ten years, but I extend DA:I through Trespasser to five years total. This brings the gap down to seven years.

Cassandra did assume the mantle of High Seeker after Lucius Corin's death during DA:I. However, shortly after Trespasser, she resigned her place on the Exalted Council and formally left the service of Divine Victoria / the Chantry of Andraste. This was followed by a journey to investigate the roots of the Seekers of Truth and decide the sort of order into which they'd be rebuilt. Were they rotten from the start or had there once been a purer purpose to which they could be returned? What exactly happened is a story of its own, but she returned with a prophet to champion and a new direction for her order.

This caused a rift within the Seekers. A few of those who'd survived Corin's purge chose to remain with the Chantry of Andraste or quit the life entirely. The rest followed Cassandra into Nevarra to build anew. They likewise accepted the same prophet, whose revelation to Nevarra created increasing tension with the Chantry of Andraste. Her popularity would only grow over the next seven years.

When tensions began to rise, Divine Victoria (Leliana, by default) approached Cassandra in secret. She asked that Cassandra turn her Seekers toward the hunt for Solas. In exchange, the Divine would do all in her power to avert an Exalted March or other reprisal. Cassandra agreed. Publicly, she and the Divine are in poor standing with one another. Privately, they coordinate to keep Thedas together and prevent an apocalypse.

To be clear, Cassandra and her Seekers remain independent. She does not reenter the Divine's or Chanty of Andraste's service. Rather she communicates with her and with the leaders of other cells also hunting Solas.

THE VEILGUARD.

Between the Antaam moving south and then unrest in Nevarra beginning in 9:49, Cassandra finds herself distracted from the hunt to take care of matters closer to home. This factors into why she doesn't come into contact with Rook sooner after Solas' failed ritual. That having been said, I do default to Rook finding out about the Sixth Blight's affect on the South much sooner. At least by the time they reach Nevarra / the Grand Necropolis.

Despite some recent controversies, Cassandra is the greatest hero Thedas has produced in the Dragon Age. She is easily one of the most famous people living with her legend being strongest in the South. She is an excellent choice to unite them in this crisis. (I would actually argue she was Divine Justinia's first choice for Inquisitor, but Cassandra herself is resistant to such roles.) She does choose to operate from Skyhold for its symbolic importance and strategic position, yet she retains the title of High Seeker and it is the Seekers of Truth stationed there, not a reformed Inquisition. She also coordinates with the North, especially Nevarra, to bring Thedas as a whole together in this fight.

A few default options for Rook to encounter her:

I will retain Rook's meetings in the Cobbled Swan, except they're meeting Cassandra and not the Inquisitor

In Nevarra / the Grand Necropolis coordinating with the Mourn Watch

In Skyhold as I don't see why Rook couldn't visit to coordinate with her people

In the Lighthouse but only if Rook invites her

Realistically, she's going to be too busy to join Rook on any quests. The South is just getting hammered by darkspawn, and she is put in the position of linchpin holding various groups together. However, I will retain the Inquisitor's involvement in the final battle — except, again, Cassandra is the one present. She will have brought a force, largely but not exclusively comprised of Seekers, with her.

[hoboblaidd]

What Solas can and can’t perceive in my expanded Veilguard verse

Between pal and skells I am examining what my expanded Veilguard verse Solas can and cannot perceive. Pal said it’s like cell service and that makes so much sense to my brain, so I’m running with it.

Outside of Fen’harel altars, which anyone can use, Solas’ ability to interact with Rook (and very select, extremely Fade-sensitive people like Emmrich) depends entirely on the condition of the Veil where they are. I’m comfortable with this canon divergence since Emm says the Veil is an inverse of Solas’ own magical signature. Solas is basically leaning against his own spell to bend the rules of reality.

His senses are extremely limited. He can’t taste or smell, and can’t see anything outside of the prison. He won’t feel a physical wound Rook receives. (He probably shouldn’t hear anything either, but frankly that defeats the whole purpose of this slight canon divergence so I’m handwaving that until I come up with a bullshit explanation).

He can talk at Rook, but he can only hear a response if they speak it out loud or direct their thoughts to him like telepathy. The communication to Solas has to be intentional. He probably sounds more like a whisper in the back of your mind than someone standing in front of you and talking.

He can’t read Rook’s thoughts, but he can feel their emotions if they’re strong enough. It’s a little looser when it comes to spirits. He can feel the “reverberations” of the Fade anywhere, as he said after Weisshaupt. So he can feel when there are spirits around, like he could sense Spite, and their natures. But I don’t think he’s able to communicate with them beyond the spirit possibly feeling the scant trace of wisdom/pride.

Solas 5G Coverage in Specific Regions:

The Veil is unstable in Arlathan. Sometimes it’s almost nonexistent, but others it’s basically folding in on itself. The connection is spotty. He can be talking to Rook in one moment and completely disappear the next. He’s able to fully insert himself in the Blood of Arlathan because Elgar’nan’s magic stabilized and thinned the Veil within an inch of its life.

Despite the blight and his history, the Deep Roads are a dead zone. I like to think the lyrium blocks him out.

The Hossberg Wetlands are a special exception to the Veil-only communication. The Veil is whatever there, but there is so much raw blight. As much as the Veil is an inverse of his natural magic, the true blight bears his perverted signature, too. A blighted creature like a Warden will be able to hear him. It’ll be muddy and distorted, but you can hear him.

The Veil is porous in Minrathous, but far more stable than in Arlathan. There’s old, old magic everywhere, both Tevinter and ancient Elvhen. Spirits are always coming through, either unwillingly bound or pulled through a tear. Apart from places where magisters have reinforced the Veil to keep out spies or disguise what they’re doing, Solas can hear damn near everything. Quick note about blood magic - the group chat had a long and inconclusive discussion about its effects on the Veil. It makes it harder to access the Fade and grounds you further into ‘reality’, yet it also weakens the Veil and invites possession. So for places where there’s a ton of blood magic, I’ll probably play it on vibes or do whatever my writing partner feels makes the most sense. Maybe he can still hear/feel things, but there’s a constant drone of a heartbeat that drowns a lot of it out.

The Veil is a mere suggestion in the Necropolis. This is the only place he can almost see things - wisps of shape, the flutter of a pulse where a mortal stands. If we want to get spooky with it, maybe Rook can sometimes almost see him, like how he begins to bleed into reality when Ghilan’nain dies, except it’d be like the green flicker of Cole when he’s invisible in the corner of their eye.

The Rivaini Coast isn’t itself particularly magical or blighted, but the Rivaini seers can probably tap in and open a channel to him. It’ll still be muddy, and maybe will only really work if he’s essentially speaking through the seer themselves instead of directly into Rook’s head.

Treviso is almost devoid of magic, at least as we see it in the game. I think it’s basically a dead zone for him.

Finally, the Crossroads and the Lighthouse. You’d think it would be easiest for him since they’re one step into the Fade, but he purposefully reinforced the Crossroads against the Evanuris. If his magic is enough to keep Elgar’nan out and blind to them, it keeps Solas just as much in the dark. Same goes for the Lighthouse - he built it as a refuge and safe house. Aside from the giant altar in the courtyard (set there purposefully so no matter what happens, Solas always has a back door listening post).

Dreamwalking

This is entirely up to who I’m writing with. He’s obviously an incredibly powerful Dreamer, so there’s a good chance he can still at least show up in people’s dreams, though he lacks the control of the Fade he usually does. Sort of like that ability is shackled - it’s still there, but he can’t move much. Me and @aestuum have it where Solas and Rook’s dreams bleed into each other. The art book (so noncanon) suggested he could dream walk with Rook as a default. Bishop’s @wakesleft has been haunted by dream Solas lol, and I have a great thread with @chanticle ‘s Jessamine and Solas in her dream.

[covertleathers]

10, 13, 14 for the Rook + Partner asks please!!

Ahh thank you for asking the one about music!!

10) Do they have any nicknames for each other? Who uses the term of endearment more?

First Talon, Sir Crow, Knives, Ruler of My Heart, My Eternal, Wings,, Ziya has them all and seems to have another name for Lucanis every day. He always knows they are speaking to him or of him regardless.

Lucanis has one or two, "Heart of Mine", "My Necromancer", or even just "Love". He doesn't use them as often because he enjoys saying "Ziya" very much. The name has a nice mouth feel.

13) What songs do you associate with them?

Music is one of the main ways I connect with folks so I'm always thinking about songs re: rookanis. But, these songs strike the emotional and lyrical core for me.

14) Does your Rook get their partner any gifts (besides the ones in game)? Does the partner get Rook any? Any gifts that are particularly special?

If a gift is something material and not an act of service: shiny objects. Jewelry, precious stones, knives.

Lucanis becomes well versed in spellblades and frequently gets them commissioned by his blacksmith with rarer and more powerful materials. Similarly, the Necropolis is full of legendary weapons left by (dead) heroes of the past. They somehow always find a knife that Lucanis would be interested in collecting. Eventually there is an entire room dedicated to their weapons at the Dellamorte Estate. They have matching brooches, for Lucanis a silver Mourn Watch beetle embedded with sapphires and for Ziya, a golden Crow skull with emerald eyes.

[berthindeath]

INQUISITION  COMPANION  →  VEILGUARD  COMPANION  VERSE:

This  will  be  replacing  my  original  companion  verse

9:41  DRAGON:  The  Inquisition

Gwendolyn  Ingellvar  a  plucky  mid  twenties  historian,  a  glorified  librarian,  was  tasked  with  leaving  the  Necropolis  in  order  to  be  present  for  the  historic  Divine  Conclave  being  held  by  seated  divine,  Justinia  V.  Requested  by  King  Markus  Pentaghast,  the  Mourn  Watch  was  asked  to  send  an  envoy,  one  of  their  best  in  order  to  document  the  rising  tensions  in  the  South  and  bring  them  back  to  the  Watch,  to  keep  the  North  informed,  but  mainly,  himself.  Having  shown  her  passion  for  the  conservation  and  documentation  of  history,  she  was  selected  to  make  the  journey.

One  that  would  go  horrifically  and  fascinatingly  wrong.

Gwendolyn  never  made  it  to  the  conclave,  which  would  turn  out  to  be  a  fateful  mercy  as  it  may  have  been  what  ultimately,  saved  her  life.  Traveling  alone  for  the  first  time  outside  of  the  safety  of  the  Mourn  Watch  proved  to  be  harrowing.  Unlike  her  home,  she  understood  that  mages  were  kept  in  rigid  circles,  abusive  and  horrible  if  her  opinion  was  ever  sought,  her  travels  meant  to  be  a  straight  forward  path  straight  to  Haven.

She  had  never  anticipated  that  she  would  get  so  frightfully  turned  around.  And  when  she  had  attempted  to  correct  her  course,  the  locals  had  proven  to  be  far  less  helpful  than  she'd  imagined.

She,  with  a  thick  Nevarran  accent,  her  clothing  denoting  of  her  ranking  (a  decision  made  so  that  templars  would  not  be  quick  to  intercept  someone  of  dignitary  status)  but  that  meant  little  to  the  village  folk  that  looked  upon  this  darkly  dressed,  witch  of  a  woman.  She  was  either  turned  around  or  given  misleading  information.  Days  off  track,  it  became  apparent  to  her  that  she  may  very  well  not  make  it  to  the  conclave  at  all,  shaming  herself  and  the  Watch  for  her  ineptitude.

And  then,  she  heard  word  of  a  plague,  of  the  undead  that  have  overtaken  a  southern  marsh  that  was  overtaken  by  an  aggressive  Avvar  tribe.  Driven  by  her  innate  need  to  help,  she  found  herself  traveling  to  the  Fallow  Mire  when  reaching  Haven  in  time  became  impossible.  While  she  knew  she  would  be  reprimanded  upon  her  eventual  return,  the  plight  had  compelled  her  forward.

It  is  here  the  Inquisitor  will  find  Gwendolyn.  She  had  been  the  lead  that  gave  Scout  Harding  the  intelligence  of  the  inquisition  soldiers'  capture  when  she'd  been  here  to  assist  with  plague  research  and  aiding  those  afflicted.  She  also  insists  on  coming  along  with  the  search  for  the  wayward  apostate,  Widris,  imploring  that  she  could  appeal  to  her  and  assist  with  the  safe  handling  of  the  demons  and  spirits  she's  summoned  in  the  marsh.  This  in  turn,  makes  Widris  an  agent  for  the  Inquisition  when  Gwendolyn  communicates  with  her  as  a  mage  herself  and  it  will  be  safer  with  the  Inquisition.

Through  her  combat  prowess,  incredible  understanding  of  the  Fade  and  spirits,  and  her  keen  medical  training,  Gwendolyn  proves  to  be  an  asset  to  the  Inquisition  and  she  can  be  recruited.

While  at  Haven,  she  will  stay  with  Adan,  acting  as  his  assistant  until  the  siege  forces  them  to  relocate  to  Skyhold.  It  is  from  there  that  Adan  relinquishes  his  clinic  in  favor  of  Gwendolyn  taking  over  when  the  stress  of  the  role  became  too  much.  Gwendolyn  can  be  found  in  the  infirmary  tending  to  the  sick,  injured,  or  dying.  Acting  as  a  mortician  in  the  case  of  death,  she  attends  to  funerary  arrangements  for  their  dead.  Even  if  Fereldan  customs  disturbed  her.

Gwendolyn  is  granted  permission  to  remain  with  the  Inquisition  under  the  conditions  that  she  document  the  entirety  of  the  Inquisition's  life  span.  As  she  was  present  for  its  inception,  they  requested  she  remain  until  it's  inevitable  disbandment.  Gwendolyn  will  stay  with  an  Inquisitor,  regardless  of  approval  level  and  choices,  in  the  effort  of  preserving  history.  However,  regardless  of  the  decision  at  the  Exalted  Council,  Gwendolyn  must  return  to  Nevarra  and  to  her  post  with  the  Mourn  Watch.

9:53  DRAGON:  Veilguard

In  the  years  after  her  two  years  with  the  Inquisition,  she  published  her  dissertation  about  the  rise  and  fall  of  the  Southern  Inquisition.  It  was  an  academic  achievement  that  catapulted  her  status  within  the  order,  rising  through  the  ranks.  While  she  returned  to  her  typical  standard  work,  her  battle  tested  skillset  was  not  something  her  superiors  were  willing  to  ignore.  As  she's  faced  countless  enemies  of  all  types,  she  was  requested  to  consult  with  new  initiates  that  would  be  tasked  with  combat  and  protection.  She  offered  her  experience  to  them,  to  impart  her  knowledge  so  that  it  might  empower  them  in  their  most  sacred  of  duties.  She  felt  as  thought  she  had  finally  hit  her  stride,  she  had  a  purpose  that  she  adored.  Friends  made,  relationships  that  she  holds  incredibly  dear.  Life  was  good  back  in  Nevarra.

Until  the  War  of  the  Banners  began.

This  is  where  her  companion  role  intersects,  leading  a  pocket  of  reavers  and  mages  to  fend  off  an  attack  when  they  are  captured  by  undead  loyal  to  the  long  dead  king,  Tylus  Van  Markham.  It  pans  out  exactly  the  same  way  it  does  in  her  main  verse,  right  up  to  the  exile.

But  she  is  not  left  adrift  and  is  scooped  up  by  Varric  as  a  fresh  face  to  help  find  Solas,  but  is  folded  in  as  an  old  friend.  She  follows  them  across  Thedas  in  their  pursuit,  splitting  her  time  between  aiding  Varric  and  the  Inquisitor  until  the  leads  on  Solas  begin  to  prove  fruitful.  She  arrived  in  Minrathous,  but  the  team  never  made  it  to  the  rendezvous  point.  It  wasn't  until  later  that  she  had  realized  something  happened  to  them.

You  can  recruit  Gwendolyn  officially  when  you  unlock  the  eluvian  to  return  to  Minrathous.  She  will  have  found  the  Shadow  Dragons  and  assisted  them  until  Harding  is  able  to  send  word  and  come  find  her  with  them.  She  can  be  recruited  at  the  Shadow  Dragons  hideout.

I  will  get  into  her  quests  and  things  of  that  nature  later,  I  just  wanted  to  get  this  down  so  that  it  makes  sense  for  any  Inquisition  characters  I  might  get  to  interact  with!

If  you  made  it  this  far,  you  are  my  best  friend.

[scotianostra]

O H Mavor, also known as James Bridie, the physician and prolific playwright, was born in Glasgow on January 3rd 1888 in Glasgow.

Bridie studied medicine at the University of Glasgow graduating in 1913, he was editor of the University Magazine and contributed drawings, light verse and stories, his influence at the University is still felt to this day in the end-of-term ball he instituted, “Daft Friday” which in recent years has featured guest acts including CHVRCHES, Newton Faulkner, Bombay Bicycle Club, Arcade Fire and Frightened Rabbit. If you’ve been paying attention to my posts, Daft Days will be familiar to you, as the period between Christmas and the New Year in olden times in Scotland.

Back to the old man himself, he co-founded Glasgow Citizens’ theatre and produced over 40 plays ‘The Anatomist’,produced in 1930, and based on the lives of nineteenth century vivisectionist Dr Robert Knox, and the West port murderers, Burke and Hare, was his first major success. In all, Mavor was to write some forty plays, under the pseudonym James Bridie Bridie worked with the director Alfred Hitchcock in the late 1940s on three films.

As well as being a prolific playwright Bridie is perhaps best know for the founding of a Glasgow Institution, as the main founder of the Citizens Theatre in 1943. Originally called the Citizens’ Company it was based at first in the Glasgow Athenaeum. It moved in 1945 to its present site, the then Royal Princess’s Theatre, where it became the Citizens Theatre.

During the founding of the Citizens, Bridie briefly returned the the medical corps during WW2 serving on a Hospital Ship in Norway.

Bridie’s influence in Scottish Drama and arts cannot be understated, he was instrumental in the founding of a College of Drama in Glasgow in 1950 (the forerunner of the Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama) . He was chairman of the Scottish committee of the Council for the Encouragement of Music and the Arts, the precursor of the Arts Council and also a Director of the Scottish National Theatre Society.

He was considered to be the first Scottish dramatist, since J M Barrie, who managed to live comfortably by the pen. He died in Edinburgh Royal Infirmary on 29 January 1951 of a brain haemorrhage and was buried in the western necropolis in his native Glasgow on 1 February.

Following his death, Mavor/Bridie has continued to be recognised for his enormous contribution to Scotland’s arts scene. In 1955 Glasgow University Union purchased a bronze head of Mavor/Bridie by Benno Schotz. The Bridie Dinner, also introduced that year, became a feature of the aforementioned Daft Friday at the Union. In addition the Union’s Library was renamed to become the Bridie Library.

Likewise the work that he did in bringing about ‘theatre for all’ was recognised when on the 17th September 1956, J. B. Priestley unveiled a bronze plaque in memory of Mavor/Bridie at the Glasgow Citizen’s Theatre. The proposed vote of thanks at the ceremony was given by his son Dr. Ronald Mavor. The RSMAD awards the James Bridie medal to outstanding students

[relentlessgrief]

For Connor’s DA verse where he’s a demon (former hope spirit) under control, there are multiple stages where he can be encountered.

More often than not he’s in the Necropolis after being found by the Mourn Watch and taken in by them. This is solely about his communication abilities—what he learns and how he learns about the world around him is entirely dependent on who he’s with (aka his rp partner in the case of the rpc). 

Stage 1, new to surroundings, freshly taken in: 

Nothing but hissing from Connor. Expect to be screamed at a lot in ear shattering wails. May lash out at with a tendril but not strike anyone. Often found in a corner and fearful of anyone and anything like a stray dog. 

Stage 2, acclimated: 

Hisses and growls are more used for communication, more approachable, does not fake attacking anyone and is not trying to defend self. Clearly understands what is being said to him. Still has a safe corner he goes to. 

Stage 3, communication starts:

Communication begins, language starts. Shows signs of accelerated learning. Begins mimicking other peoples voices via phrases it hears, like a parrot, only creepier. Again, bear from annihilation  vibes here. Iykyk. Very experimental stage of trying to find his own voice. 

Stage 4, communication proficient:

Has a voice of his own, able to communicate effectively with words. Illiterate, however. Shows the signs of a more complex personality that has always been there in part being able to utilize words and communicate those feelings. 

Stage 5, learning how to read and write:

Expresses interest in certain books, learning how to spell out words via phonics. Messy handwriting, terrible spelling on any written notes. Expressed frustration at how difficult the language is. Also has shown interest in drawing, and anything involving his limbs such as sewing. 

Stage 6, full proficiency:

Able to read and write effectively. Can write scholarly documents, aids in the documentation for the Mourn Watch, writes books as needed for whatever record purposes. Terrible creative writer. Able to speak fluently and make jokes and various references pulled from literature and any other media. 

[recitedemise]

In his Dragon Age verse, Gale, though primarily a necromancer, doubles also as an exceptionally learned practitioner of blood magic. Of course, however, this isn't exactly a talent he goes about flaunting like the colors of his robes. Across Thedas, the mage knows, the use of such spellcraft is undeniably regarded as inherently evil. It uses blood as its fuel, a field that's incapable of creating and making without taking in turn, and as such, his myriad of experiments are kept very lock-and-key -- and to be sure, to know his work at all is to have earned his trust.

Blood magic, to Gale, is something he learned to dabble in as he sequestered himself in the Necropolis' phantomish chambers. After contracting the Blight, he had set himself to wasting somewhere far below where the dead things lay. As it were, he'd possessed too much knowledge of the innerworkings of the Mourn Watch, and surrendering himself knowing he was a threat, his peers accepted -- some saddened -- his subsequent isolation. Alone, Gale took to his modest luxuries, locked in his room with a great wealth of books and the time to tarry. Here, he studied blood magic, desperate to slow down his worsening condition. To Gale, all magic, even blood magic, is not so much evil as much as it's but a tool. Most Mortalitasi, however, aren't as quick as Gale to dip their toes in this forbidden art. To most his peers, blood magic defiles life while necromancy, their art, covets and treasures it. Gale, however, rides that line of death in a way most don't. As such, to him, he sees the use of blood magic as a sort of beacon of hope. However, he loathes -- and with a ferocious intensity, too -- the idea of bringing harm onto anyone at all. His experiments, if asked, would be detailed exhaustively as tests all conducted at the cost of his health. Gale longs to heal the body without the use of another's blood or vitality. Often, you can find him hunched over at his desk, fingers working at his veins or that deep, garish bruise sat inky at his chest. Make no mistake, however, though Gale will never choose to hurt without reason, if pressed or threatened in any way at all... Well, prodigy as he is, the danger Gale can pose is downright ghastly.